


A Good Soldier

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hard ground of M3X-729 was far from hospitable and the chameleon weather of the Laderan homeworld even more so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Soldier

Rodney woke with a shiver. The hard ground of M3X-729 was far from hospitable and the chameleon weather of the Laderan homeworld even more so. A sudden breeze licked icy-blue across the tip of his ear and nose, bringing with it the lung-blazing scent of eternal winter, something he thought he'd left behind long ago.

He blinked at his wrist before tugging the collection of blankets tighter around him. They were a specialty of the natives, made from the wool of the Kepple, a shaggy, sheep-like animal plentiful in this and nearby villages. There was only one more hour until his watch. He groaned. The huddled mass beside him shifted, making Rodney strain his eyes for a better look. Unless Sheppard had grown an impressive set of dreads over the past few hours, he and Ronon had switched sentry times. Another lonely chorus of wind charged the hut, mixed with the big guy's soft snores, and made for a potentially annoying duet.

So, Sheppard was outside. Somehow, that didn't surprise Rodney at all. It wasn't their first rodeo on Ladera, and this time of night was dead calm, the easiest time to be lulled away and the time most likely for something to happen. Not to mention as cold and black as a pit. Rodney rolled his eyes in the darkness. Of course Sheppard would take this watch.

A lone bead of sweat curved stealthily away from his nape and came to rest in the hollow of his neck, giving way to a pang of something Rodney couldn't quite define. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the door. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the mountain of Kepple off him, sat up, arched like a cat and reached for his boots. He shivered again as he worked himself into the heavy, parka-like jacket - one given to each of them by the Laderans - and gathered up the still-warm blankets. He tossed one of them over the noisy hulk on the floor, then stooped to carefully snug another around the other smaller form that revealed nothing of Teyla but the golden flow of her hair. Folding the others over his arm, Rodney stole out of the hut.

Sheppard stood at the firepit. He was wearing another of the fur-lined jackets and blowing into his hands. "You're not due for another hour, McKay. Can't sleep? Now that would be a first," he said with a chuckle. "Even for Ladera."

Rodney stopped a few feet from the pit. "Is that a backhanded insinuation that I'm lazy?" he asked, chucking one of the folded blankets over the flames and into the Colonel's arms.

"Actually, I thought it was kinda straight forward… but as long as the shoe fits…" He looked at the blanket in his hand, then back to Rodney. "What's this for?"

Rodney stepped over to one of the small benches beside the firepit, unfolding his blanket as he went. "Because it's cold out here, idiot," he replied, sitting down and draping the heavy wool over his legs. He thought to make a remark about the insulating properties of Sheppard's hair, but tugged the hood of his jacket further down on his own high forehead instead. His face flushed warm, but whether that was from the fire or Sheppard's stare, Rodney couldn't say. He gazed into the yellow-orange flames and tightened his jaw as Sheppard joined him on the bench.

"Thanks, Mom… but that still doesn't explain why you're up." Their jackets rubbed together with a dull swish as the Colonel mimicked Rodney's action with the blanket and settled in, parts of their thighs and knees touching now as well.

He sensed Sheppard's gaze drift away to find the flames, and even the little eddy swirling at their backs couldn't quench the heat in Rodney's cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Let's just say the combination of the wind and Ronon snoring isn't exactly Braham's Lullaby." He sat a little straighter and smiled when Sheppard huffed a laugh, the billowy sketch of it frozen for a few seconds in the night air before it dissolved. "So, it's been quiet?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney caught the tiny nod of Sheppard's head. "Then, look," he said after a long moment of the both of them sitting there, still and silent. "I'm good. Why don't you just go ahead inside, get some sleep. I've got this." He finally turned to look at the man beside him.

Sheppard gave him a sidelong glance and a grin. "Nah… a good soldier never leaves his post early."

Reflections of the flames danced in Sheppard's eyes and Rodney found himself wondering, for just a heartbeat, what bad soldiers did and what it would take to find out.

He pushed that thought away, though, just as quickly. Sheppard wasn't a bad soldier.

Rodney nodded and turned his gaze back to the fire. They'd need more wood soon, but for now, their jackets still brushed together with each breath, it was comfortably quiet, and the touch of the Colonel's thigh, the one he hadn't moved, seemed to have chased some of the chill from the air… and, yeah, he was good.

For now.


End file.
